I know that I've been AWOL lately. I'm trying to catch up, really I am. It's just that I'm tired. No, I'm not whining. I really am tired. Exhausted, as a matter of fact. I have been working my fat ass off at the gym. TH has been in perfect attendance as well; the couple that works out together, stays together. They also have no sex life. Due to the tireless reps, the classes, the iron that is pumped and the miles that are logged, we are as limp as wet noodles. Muscles are screaming, joints are aching and energy levels are low. Our sex life has been reduced to a kiss goodnight, a loving look and uttering the word "Sex?". My beloved toys are gathering dust as I nurse my aching glutes and rub my throbbing hamstrings. They always say the first few weeks are a killer. Now I know that the thing being murdered is my libido. Don't be alarmed! I have done this before. In another week or two, I will be bouncing with energy and twice as frisky as before. Be afraid, be very afraid! Exercise has a way of making me as horny as a teenager in heat.
Bored with lifting and bumping endlessly along on the treadmill, bike and elliptical thingy, I decided to look into the classes. Disappointed that they STILL aren't offering strip aerobics, I selected a yoga classes. I've taken yoga before so this wasn't a new activity for me. I'm not the great at it, but I can stumble along with the best of them. My poses aren't pretty. I know that you're suppose to ease into the stretch and breathe. Well, you can't tell that to a former gymnast. I was taught to stretch until your muscles are throbbing and then stretch some more. The teachers are always frustrated with me. "Use the block", they say. "Don't try to do to much to fast". Meanwhile, I'm trying to get by foot behind my head even though I feel like my neck is going to snap.
I'm at my first class and there are four of us, including the instructor. We're easing into the routine and sitting in the lotus position. We're breathing in unison and relaxing our minds. I can't relax. I've got 50 things running through my head and none of them are relaxing. I'm planning dinner, running through my schedule for the next day and wondering whose feet smell like cheese. The instructor tells us to take a deep breath in and let it out with a "HAAAAAAAA". We all breathe out in unison when "RUUUUUUUUUHHHHP!" The instructor lets out the biggest, juiciest fart. Not only was it loud, but the wood floor we were sitting on made it echo through-out the room. I was able to feel the vibration travel across the floor to where I was sitting.
You all know how I feel about bodily functions. I regress right back to being seven years old. Thank God everyone else had their eyes closed in relaxation as I watched my reflection in the mirror turn purple with suppressed laughter.
I know that farting is acceptable in yoga. In fact, anything natural is acceptable. The body is suppose to be in a relaxed state with energy shooting out of it. Natural gas seems to be one of those energy forces.
We make it through the next 45 minutes with only a few toots. I was concentrating on tearing all of the ligaments from my bones, so I was able to tune out her "energy shots". We were winding down the routine and sitting in Child's Pose, (If you don't know what this looks like, you should click the link to get the full effect of this) when she must have had a big boost of energy. RRRRRRRUUUUUUUHPPP! and then she breathed out "AAHHHH!"
I am in the pose, shaking with laughter. I can barely breathe and tears are streaming down my face.
Thankfully, this woman was just a fill in for the normal instructor, who doesn't fart, by the way. It appears that I will never be a true Yogi. There is no way I would let one rip in class, no matter how relaxed I am.
This other instructor makes me cry too. She is sadistic. I swear, the woman never stops for a second. All you people who think yoga is for pansy, think again.
Stay turned....I have cardio kick boxing tonight and I have no coordination.